


get a little closer, let fold

by Amber



Category: Annihilation (2018 Garland)
Genre: Chocolate Box Exchange, Chocolate Box Exchange 2019, Cunnilingus, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen, Treat, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 04:56:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17780993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber/pseuds/Amber
Summary: Anya can't get the way Josie smells out of her head.





	get a little closer, let fold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [track_04](https://archiveofourown.org/users/track_04/gifts).



This girl, this new sprout starting to make its way up from between the cracks in the concrete that has enveloped her, she smells like something blooming. She smells like fresh sex, and the sweetness of sleep. She smells like blood — but not because of her period, they basically all synced back at base, the whole team, and nobody's started on the mission. Haven't been in here long enough. (Probably. It's hard to — keep track.)

Anya wants to fucking devour her.

So much gets stripped from them — in training to come here, in the coming itself. But Anya knows her body, knows what the gut-pull connected to her cunt means. Why it's Josie, she doesn't know, but her eyes are hungry as they watch her pull off her jacket in the evening. Everything is sticky heat.

"You ever been kissed here before?" she smiles, low and crooked, fingers a hair's breadth away from an infraction. They don't quite touch down between Josie's legs, but the intensity of the other woman's eyes on her say she feels them anyway. Anya doesn't wait for her to summon an answer. "You wanna be?"

This isn't new for her, pulling someone off into a dark corner, but the urgency of it is. The way she wants this more than she cares about the mission, even though the mission is everything. Where even is Ventress? They shouldn't leave the camp. This place is fucked up. But Anya leads Josie through the heavy, dim air, pushing aside thick foliage, doesn't listen for more strange noises, doesn't keep watch, doesn't think about the others finding them gone. Doesn't think about anything but the way Josie smells, and finding somewhere she can— there.

She pushes Josie up against a tree and jams her face into her neck, snuffling there like a bear. The scent isn't quite thick enough, so she moves down to her armpit, where the humidity has sweated out more pheromones.

"Thorensen?" Josie asks, sounding a little worried. "Anya? You okay there?"

Anya surges up and kisses her, and Josie is startled at first, seems to genuinely think about it before giving in to it. But she's giving in to everything in this place, Anya has seen the way she tilts her head up into the bask of sunlight and smiles. The way she leaves her hair loose sometimes, rolls up her sleeves so they can all see her scars. The tense, nerdy little astrophysicist from the base is wilder here — wilder in the way she claws at Anya, too.

"Get your pants off," Anya growls, and there are clips and buckles and buttons, but they crumple fabric aside or drop it onto the loamy ground where the roots of the tree sit thick and pale and ominous. Anya pushes Josie's bare back up against the trunk and it's almost like it gives a little, soft and firm as a hard cock. They kiss again, as insects in the bushes cover their soft moans with the chorus of their mating hum.

Anya goes to her knees when she can't wait any longer, and once again she simply presses her face forward, wanting to be wholly enveloped by the scent. It's richer and darker and riper here, Josie sticky as summer fruit, her clit already fat enough to suck. Anya rubs her face into tight curls and slick lips and heated depths, anointing herself with Josie's juices.

When she looks up, Josie is looking down, dazed and aroused but also still a little baffled, a little worried — anxiety. Fuck anxiety. Fuck all of that; Anya uses her mouth, closed her lips around Josie's clit. She uses her hands, to push at her thighs, wanting them wider. Getting rid of the constriction of any last stitch of clothing so she can haul one of Josie's legs over her shoulder and eat her out the way she's been fantasizing about for days.

Josie comes fast and nervous, new to this, but Anya doesn't stop, presses a finger into the slick of her to give her cunt something to clench around and goes back to massacring her clit. Josie is oversensitive, writhes, but the noises she's making are joyous, are yes and yes and yes. Falling into the pleasure, giving herself up to it. She takes longer the second time, needs two more fingers. Holds out until her toes are curling in the dark earth, her juices slick all down Anya's wrist, and then her head slams back against the tree and her clitoris throbs sharply and her vagina goes rigid tight. She screams as she comes, contracting i tight for a single isolated moment and then exploding. She sprays wetness. 

It's not enough. Even daubed in sex, it's not enough for Anya. She doesn't stop, and Josie makes the desperate noises of a dying woman. Tries to get away but she's all useless with coming and skewered on Anya's fingers, pinned under Anya's tongue. Anya watches as she claws at her own tits instead, tugging at her nipples like she's trying to distract herself from the sensation. Drags a hand over her face, presses her own fingers into her mouth, distorting it almost gruesomely.

"Anya," she manages, finger-muffled. "Please."

Anya gives no quarter. No mercy. She isn't done yet, hasn't quite licked to the heart of whatever it is she's trying to taste in Josie. This last time she is precise, almost mechanical, in how she forces a third peak out of the other woman, making her double over in orgasm, sobbing and clutching Anya's head. Anya teethes her clit like she's going to pull it out at the root, and Josie shrieks.

All at once, though, they're done. Anya can feel that she was on the brink of orgasm herself, nipples tight and pussy heavy and damp. But it's gone. Tentatively, she reaches down between her own legs, but rubbing her fingers slick through the wet doesn't feel like much of anything.

"Aw, fuck," Anya says, picking herself up. Josie is crying still, collapses forward into her arms, and Anya holds her and soothes her through the emotional aftermath. Doesn't bother asking for reciprocation. Apparently that's not what this was about. But fuck, she can feel the molten frustration of it somewhere in her, and even when they're dressed again and back at camp, she can feel it. Now that she isn't choking on that smell half the time she's remembered to be afraid, her jitters coming back, and it mingles ugly with the frustration, brews something poisonous.

Her eyes slide away from the others', not wanting to see what kind of pity Lena has for her — or would it be longing? Not wanting to see Ventress all disappointed, or worse, analytical, working out how to use whatever happened out there. But Josie, who is even more of a visible mess, seems to dare them to look at her and judge her. Wilder and wilder, her tendrils cracking the concrete as she emerges into the midst of them all.


End file.
